


A whiff of bygone days

by Mallorn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dubious consent initially, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incorrect use of swagger sticks, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallorn/pseuds/Mallorn
Summary: Allegiant General Pryde introduces you to his swagger stick. PWP.
Relationships: Enric Pryde/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	A whiff of bygone days

**Author's Note:**

> Written for everyone who reacted like me at the sight of Pryde and his swagger stick in TROS. I apparently just can't look at a strict military type of character without my mind immediately heading towards the gutter.
> 
> My sincerest thanks to Cassandra1, who continues to spoil me with expert proof-reading.

Serving under Allegiant General Pryde is completely different from how it was to work with General Hux. The young general was strict, too, and always professional, but sometimes when he summoned you late at night to go over last-minute changes to his agenda, he would loosen up a bit, say a few words out of context, even smile. And he would always thank you politely for bringing caf.

Not so with the allegiant general. Pryde is an old-school tyrant, the worst kind of relic from the past. A firm believer in ruling through fear, he stalks the corridors waving his swagger stick, looking at everyone and everything with a perpetual expression of distaste as he points out countless flaws invisible to everybody else. Unhappy at all times, impossible to please. He prefers to manage his administrative tasks on his own and clearly doesn’t care for your company. It is common knowledge that he assigned you to himself mainly to spite General Hux. You do as you are told, naturally, but seldom more. Why bother, when any attempt to be even a little less formal is met with contempt?

“Your tea, sir,” you tell him as you place the cup on the desk in front of him. Pryde looks truly miserable tonight. “Would you care for something to eat as well,” you add out of pity, “perhaps some fruit or a biscuit? Is there anything else I could do to facilitate your work?”

“Quiet! Had I desired chit-chat from you I would have made it known.”

“Sorry, sir. I’m just trying to be helpful.” You glance at the Tarkin portrait on the wall behind him and shudder. Another gaunt face with a piercing gaze that judges your every step. General Hux also has an idol picture in his office, but the hologram on his desk isn’t nearly as awe-inspiring as this framed black and white print on real paper with its unreadable autograph across the corner. 

“Your transferral to me may be a mistake,” Pryde says after sniffing the tea and putting the cup down without tasting it. “However, unlike the present generation of senior officers, my kind knows the meaning of such words as honour and duty. One must suffer the consequences of one’s actions.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Do you? It is not without considerable personal sacrifice that I find myself among a crew of incompetent degenerates.” He glances wistfully at the portrait. “The First Order has become a disgrace, as impotent and weak as its leader and his pet general. How the Emperor has suffered such incompetence in his ranks to flourish is incomprehensible to me.” He grips the swagger stick, looking smug. “Soon you will all learn what it means to serve with honour.”

“But, sir,” you protest, “times are different now. And General Hux isn’t –”

There’s a swish through the air and something lands on your bottom with a resounding thwack. The suddenness and the loud sound affect you more than the physical pain.

“Sir!” It’s Pryde’s bloody swagger stick! He has it lifted again, ready to deliver another stroke. You take a swift step to the side.

“Be still while I discipline you,” he says icily and shows the hint of a sinister smile as he rises from the chair. “Your chastisement is long overdue.” A firm hand between your shoulders presses your upper body down onto the desk. Humiliating as it is, compliance seems the best course of action – Pryde will soon get tired of playing out this charade and recalling the glorious past.

“I expected more from you,” he continues. “Devotion to our cause, loyalty, aspiration to perfection. Instead, I get carelessness and reluctance to carry out even the simplest order in the required manner.”

You’re not really listening to his tirade. The tea smells divine; it’s a fragrant variety you have yet to try yourself, and if he’s not going to drink it, then maybe…

“You undermine my position with your flippant behaviour,” Pryde continues and taps the stick against the table top. “Do you think I don’t notice? Do you take me for a fool?”

“The tea is getting cold.”

“I do not tolerate impertinence.” The stick lands on your bottom again, slightly lower this time. For a split second there is nothing, then white-hot pain burns on your skin and you scream.

“I will not stand for ignorance.” The next stroke is harder still. You manage to suppress the impulse to cry out, but tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, as much from mortification and frustration as from the terrible sting. Once the initial flash of agony subsides, throbbing heat remains, coursing through your entire body and centring in your core. There’s no denying the effect Pryde’s rough treatment has on you.

“Carelessness is totally unacceptable.” His voice is calm and collected as he delivers yet another. Your response is a drawn-out moan; you’re soaking wet already. Desperate to not let it show, you press your damp thighs together and stand absolutely still.

“That’s it,” Pryde states, sounding more satisfied than ever. “Just three more now.” He taps your bottom lightly before lifting the stick again. “Of all the things I despise, the worst is lack of respect and I shall Not. Tolerate. It!”

Three strokes in quick succession and exquisite pain explodes on your skin. You can’t breathe. Your mouth opens in a silent scream and then, with the rush of adrenaline, a fresh surge of lust washes over you. You inhale hungrily, but air is not nearly enough to satisfy you. You clench and press against the edge of the desk, needing, wanting. Craving. Then, you rein it in by tightening your fists and squeezing your eyes closed until your head aches. He must not suspect anything.

“That should suffice,” Pryde declares. “For now, at least. Keep in mind that I will not hesitate to repeat this lesson should it become necessary.” He holds the stick up in front of your face. “Kiss it.”

Still in shock, you do it without a second thought. Pryde nods.

“And now you will run off to medbay to lament your bitter fate at the hand of the cruel old imperial. Don’t look surprised, I know what they say about me. You’ve wasted enough of my time already. Get out.”

“I think not, sir.” As if being spanked by your superior and becoming aroused by it isn’t bad enough. Telling anyone, let alone showing them, is impossible. You’ll slink into your bunk quietly and touch yourself as you try not to think about how Allegiant General Pryde is actually rather attractive in his own forbidding, old-fashioned way.

“No?” He studies you, puts a finger under your chin and looks into your eyes. His are cold; you cannot meet them for any length of time. “First time?”

You nod and avert your gaze. “I have never been … disciplined this way before. Sir.”

“Pull them down, then, let me see.” He gestures at your trousers. “I trust I wasn’t too harsh with you.”

You can’t believe it’s happening, but you turn away from him with heated cheeks, loosen your belt and lower your trousers and underwear to just above your knees.

He lays his hand lightly on the small of your back and you lean over the desk again, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he says. “You took it well.” He gently strokes over your bottom with his gloved hand, and even the light touch makes you suck in your breath.

“Ah, it… stings, sir. It’s –” You draw a deep breath. “It’s tolerable.”

“Good girl. Let me just –” He feels lower, pushing his hand between your legs briefly. Then he leans closer, sniffing.

Suddenly something hard rubs against your inner thighs. It prods your sex and glides along your swollen labia with too much ease as you struggle to appear unaffected despite getting wetter by the second.

“Now this is a surprise, I must say. A welcome one.”

His hand skims over the damp skin between your thighs and you whimper, trying to press your legs together.

Retaliation is momentary; the stick strikes without mercy. He’s not using nearly as much force as before, but on naked skin, the intense feeling makes you tremble. The throbbing in your core does not subside.

“Sorry, sir,” you gasp. “It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not.” Pryde hums while the stick continues its exploration – this time with the wider end – prodding and pressing as he gently massages your rump with his other hand. You really should get up and leave, and instead you shift a little and arch your back as that rigid thing creeps towards your sex. It teases around your entrance, almost there, any second now. You hold your breath and when it finally dips inside, you let out a soft moan.

There’s not a chance he has not by now discovered the state you’re in. You breathe heavily through your nose as he fucks you slowly with the stick. You angle your hips, willing him to push it deeper into you.

“Nice and slick already,” he remarks, continuing to push it in and out.

He knows then. All blood vanishes from your face and then rushes back again. How are you going to continue working with him after this? How can you even look at him?

“I’m so sorry, sir! Please!”

“Please, what? I do not think you want me to stop.” Pryde sounds anything but appalled. He makes no sign of ceasing, but rather moves with more vigour while telling you how very good you are for him.

The sense of shame is gradually replaced by the thrill of sharing an illicit indulgence. You writhe and throw your head back, desiring so much more. The sensations of pleasure are too intense for you to think properly. “Please more, sir! Please – ah – fuck me.” You bite your fist. You cannot believe you said it aloud!

“Don’t overstep, girl.” There’s resolution to his voice now, authority. “If that is what you want, you will have to earn it.” Pryde withdraws the handle with an indecent sound that betrays exactly how wet you are. “On your knees, slut.”

You hastily step out of your trousers and kneel in front of him. He’s standing at perverted parade rest, hands on hips, the right one still holding the swagger stick. A twitch of his upper lip is the only reaction when you reach for the clasp of his belt. Half-way there, you change your mind. Slowly, you move your hand lower and palm him through his trousers. With the other, you reach between his legs and stroke his bollocks, hiding a smile when his eyes widen. You will show him just how dedicated you can be when you have a good reason.

Pryde looks sinisterly elegant and composed even with his cock peeking out beneath his tunic, a single pale accent against the black fabric. He is perhaps a tad shorter than average, but thick. The sight of the plump head makes your core ache, simply from imagining what it would feel like pressing in between your folds, slowly, deliberately. He fills out your hand well.

Pryde draws a breath as you open up and take the tip between your lips. His eyes are glued to your mouth. Flattening your tongue and pressing it against the shaft, you take him deeper, then swallow around him until his jaw drops. The _Steadfast’s_ almighty terror is only a man, after all.

“You are clearly not a novice, and you comply so easily,” he says, quickly regaining his wits when you relax your throat and begin to move up and down at a leisurely pace. “Do you provide this service to all of your superiors? Are they allowed into your mouth at will, or do you keep a schedule?”

What a bastard! You’d nip him, but that would be the end of this, and you still want him. Your angry retort comes out as an annoyed squeak.

“I can see that you want to answer so very much. What a pity you can’t.”

You moan with indignation, pressing your nails into his backside.

His hand is on the back of your head now, holding you loosely in place as he fucks your mouth. It feels distinctly erotic to be used this way and it clearly affects him, too.

“In any case, it will have to stop. I – ah, I will not suffer a slut for an aide. You will continue to give yourself to me, naturally. That goes without saying.”

He’ll have to stop talking now, or this will become tedious. From the wall, Tarkin stares down on you. The tea must be completely cold now.

“Focus!”

Insufferable old man! You detest him, and you want him to fuck you more than ever. Better keep him in a good mood, but not too good. He must not come yet. 

“There’s no need to worry about swallowing,” he states imperiously, misinterpreting your hesitation. “I intend to come inside your cunt.”

You cannot stop the keening noise that builds from low in your throat. The hunger for him swells until it threatens to eat you alive and you tremble with need, clutching his thighs and laving his cock with new frenzy.

“Does this idea excite you? Filthy girl.” His lips curl in distaste, but his eyes betray him. The hand on your head strokes your hair gently.

“Imagine how it will feel when I press into you, slowly.”

Your eyes flutter close and you lose yourself to the image in your head, your pelvis undulating as you suck with abandon.

“Stop.”

You can’t, you just can’t let go. So close now, the slightest touch and you’ll explode.

He grins and pulls out, holding you off him.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you? And such a good girl. Just a moment, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You scramble onto his chair with your knees on the seat and hands gripping the backrest.

With a low chuckle, Pryde rubs the head of his cock along your slit until you shake with need, and only then he proceeds to slide into you, just as agonizingly slowly as he said he would. The feeling of it is nearly enough for you to come, and his lewd grunt when he settles pushes you over the edge. Wave after wave of insane pleasure washes over you as he pulls out slowly, then snaps his hips and fills you again with a snarl.

“Now how does that feel?”

He drives into you again, obviously and luckily not requiring an answer. With every thrust, he slaps against your sensitive skin, bringing the sweet agony of your punishment to the surface again. Your entire body is aglow.

The swagger stick rolls over the edge and falls the floor with a clatter.

If Pryde noticed, he doesn’t care. With both hands on your hips, he crashes you against him to the rising and falling cadence of your voice and the violently rattling chair. With each thrust he grunts loudly, a strangely erotic sound that is a perfect blend of authority and lasciviousness.

Harder, faster, he goes on and on until your ebbing orgasm spills into a second one, even more powerful than the first. You have no words, almost no voice. All you can do is to hold on to the chair for dear life until he gives a final, loud groan, shudders and slumps over you. He rests his sweaty forehead against your back and it feels like a blessing.

Fully dressed again, there’s little in Allegiant General Pryde’s impeccable appearance that tells of what just passed. His cheeks have taken on a rosier hue – much like your still smarting backside – and there’s new life to his eyes, but not one hair is out of order. He clears his throat.

“Perhaps we shall come to an understanding after all.”

He taps the swagger stick against his thigh. It’s impossible to take your eyes from it.

“I believe so, too, sir.” You make a small curtsy and look up at his face. “Could we –” No. He’s your general; you cannot ask this of him.

“Pardon? Speak up.” It’s technically an order. You take a deep breath and say it.

“Could we do this again?”

He smiles briefly, then becomes dead serious.

“I look forward to reddening your shapely behind again,” he says and brings the stick handle to his nose. He inhales with half-closed eyes, then stares at you as he wets his lips with much show of his quite sizeable and agile tongue. “And tasting your delectable cunt.”


End file.
